Talk of This and That
by swatkat
Summary: Another day, another hospital fundraiser.


For the housefic50 prompt: hospital. 872 words, Cuddy, gen. I'm not entirely sure if it makes sense. Not beta'd; your comments/crit will be loved. I'm not sensitive. (g)

**Talk of This and That**

-

Another day, another hospital fundraiser.

The hospital becomes a different place on these days: transformed, as if by a magic wand. Cuddy plays the perfect hostess as always: entertaining her guests and sweet-talking them into loosening their purse-strings; watching over the catering staff like a hawk; making sure her that normally well-behaved doctors don't get into fistfights after consuming too much alcohol. It's exhausting. Not her idea of a great party.

'Doctor Cuddy!' booms an all too familiar voice from somewhere behind her. 'Some party you've got going!'

Cuddy turns around to face a shockingly well-groomed House, twirling his cane and smirking down at her in a manner that's almost disturbing in its cheerfulness. It usually means that he is up to something, and that's something she could certainly do without this evening. Heaven knows she deals with enough of it on a daily basis. Beside him, Wilson is his usual amiable self.

Cuddy raises an eyebrow. 'I thought you weren't coming.' Or so he had claimed all week: loudly; _repeatedly_.

'I changed my mind. Good food, free booze, the educated company of my fellow doctors,' he replies, gaze dropping to her cleavage. 'What's not to like?'

Wilson smiles apologetically, mumbling compliments on her dress: 'You look nice.'

Which, of course, House does not miss. 'Yes, that blue – brings out your _eyes_. And that_ neckline_– ', he says, staring pointedly at her breasts. Again.

'Behave yourself,' she says, sternly. To Wilson: 'And you make sure he stays out of trouble,' because _she_ certainly doesn't have the opportunity or the desire to play nanny all evening.

And with that, she sweeps away to greet her _actual_ guests, ignoring House's loud, 'Hey, where's my booze? Is this how you treat your guests?'

-

'You should have a costume event next. You would make a lovely Cleopatra.'

'Thank you. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.'

'I was at Senator Hill's event last summer, and –'

She watches him out of the corner of her eye while making small talk with her potential donors and getting hit on by mostly uninteresting and some married men. It's not very exciting, but then it's a part of the job: Pediatrics needs a new sonogram and the nurses have been demanding a pay raise which she will have to give in to sooner or later – she needs those donations.

House, somehow – apart from that one minor incident with Davis from Cardiology, who, she admits, had it coming – manages to conduct himself surprisingly well all evening. He spends most of the time slumped on a couch, harassing the waiters and chatting with Wilson, giving every appearance of enjoying himself. Cuddy makes a mental note to thank Wilson afterwards.

-

Later, when she makes her way to the couch that House and Wilson have been occupying for the past few hours, she is greeted with an abrupt: 'Sandler's gay.'

'Is he?' she blurts, before she can stop herself. Propriety kicks in, then, and she frowns, 'And if he is, that's none of your business.'

'He's _totally_ hitting on that guy right now,' House points with his cane. 'Prettyboy over there.'

'Or maybe you just have a dirty mind,' says Wilson, sipping lazily on his champagne.

He _is _conversing in a rather intimate manner with a handsome, youngish man she vaguely recognizes from somewhere, Cuddy notes, but the very idea of the much-married Dr. Sandler being gay comes across as yet another one of House's ridiculous theories. Or not, she thinks, and then feels vaguely guilty for having speculated over one of her doctors' sex lives, with _House_ of all people.

'Isn't he married?' she asks, even if it's extremely inappropriate and absolutely none of her business.

'Was. Not anymore. Ten bucks says they'll be out of this place in fifteen minutes.'

'Deal,' says Wilson, and somehow Cuddy finds herself settling down on the couch beside House and watching Dr. Sandler with undue interest.

And soon enough, the couple departs – hastily – and House turns to Wilson with a triumphant smile, 'That's one-twenty bucks you owe me right now, Jimmy.'

'Seventy. And _you_ owe me dinner.'

What had them occupied all evening suddenly becomes very clear.

'You're really here for the gossip, aren't you?' she says, more amused by this than she should be.

'Would I do something like that?' he says, eyes wide and innocent. And then: 'Who do you think she'll leave with,' pointing at a gorgeous redhead, 'Freddy over there, or - '

'Frank,' Wilson interrupts. 'His name is Frank.'

'Whatever. He looks like he should be called Freddy. Freddy, or that tall one over there?'

'Frank. Look at their body language.'

'Tall guy's prettier.'

Cuddy laughs, feeling more at ease than she has all evening.

'You don't think he's prettier?' House says, looking extremely serious.

'I – '

'How about a little bet? Ten bucks says it'll be the tall guy.'

Cuddy thinks of saying no: it's juvenile and inappropriate, just the kind of thing House would do. And she has to return to her guests.

But there's a twinkle in House's eye, and it's her party after all – she deserves a bit of fun every now and then.

'You're on,' she says.

The guests can wait.

-


End file.
